Dear Mr. President, @KagutaMuseveni
It’s been a while since I last sent you a missive. Honestly, I thought I’d retired from the business. After ten years of shouting from the rooftops as an opposition activist, I figured I’d done my bit. I passed the baton to younger, sharper minds and went in search of peace, security, and—yes—greener pastures.
How naïve of me.
I forgot one small detail: there’s only one place to come back to—home. And here I am.
And there you are.
Still seated exactly where I left you. Still controlling the fate of millions. Still deciding who wins, who loses, who lives, and who disappears.
You’ve grown older—much older, in fact. I see the fatigue in your face. I would suggest retirement, but we both know how that would go.
Tibuhaburwa doesn’t listen. To anyone.
So why start with me?
And oh, I laugh now—but not with you. I laugh at you.
I’m not angry anymore. Yes, I was once a fire-breathing, rage-filled African woman. But I misplaced that anger somewhere between Heathrow and Entebbe. What remains is irony. The beautiful irony of the system you built—a fortress of fear, intimidation, vote buying, and gerrymandering—now trapping you. You, the great liberator, are now a prisoner of your own power.
But what really cracks me up is this:
After all these years, all these battles—you’re still terrified of Kizza Besigye.
Hahahaha! Seriously?
But let’s park that comedy for now and talk about the real elephant in the room.
Your son.
Yes, that one. The little boy we saw in uniform at Kampala Parents, Sandhurst, and Kisubi. Is he really the same one we see today, parading around like a warlord in cosplay?
Eh, Mzee…what happened?
Let me let you in on a little secret:
The opposition is praying for your long life.
Yes, they’d rather you stay in power till you’re 100 than hand over to that product of yours. While you were busy launching one failed wealth creation scheme after another (and yes, none of them worked), a monster was quietly growing in your own household. And you didn’t even see it.
So here we are—trapped in the very paralysis you designed.
You may not have the strength to reply anymore, but don’t worry—your son’s trolls will take it from here. They’ll foam at the mouth online in your defense, because that’s what we do now: rule through hashtags, bots, and paranoia.
Anyway, take it easy, old man.
Parent to parent, I’m still praying—for you, for us, for Uganda.
Osibegye.
What I don’t understand is;
1. Why would a magistrate entertain a suspect in Eddie’s state and condition and further go on and remand him?
2. Why would prisons admit a suspect in Eddie’s state?
Something is terribly wrong with Ugandan institutions. @norbertmao@andrewbagala